Post Mortum of a Poetry Reading

Hey, I had a very fun time reading poetry at the Poetry Center San Jose, reading at the Arts Object Gallery. Thank you Linda Lappin, and to Ken, who had the refreshments and provided his gallery. I think the audience enjoyed it, too. They laughed at all the right places, seemed thoughtful, seemed sad at the right places, and when they threw rotten tomatoes at me, none of them landed.

I tood advantage of a chance during break to chat with a few other poets, small-talk, really–my word, I'm horrible at trying to remember names–I stumbled upon no new earth-shaking secrets. The other reader was a Santa Cruz poet, Dana Cervine, a good reader, but he was a little shy in his commentary, so I heard very little of that. It must have been pretty good because he smiled and laughed a lot. (Dana's day job involves working and managing in children’s mental health for Santa Cruz County.) As I was about to say, I should have the nerve to tell these well-meaning, talented folks to speak up. This fellow has had lots of experience and he seems to spend most of his life writing poems, even does it driving sometimes, if I’m to believe wild stories. If I did that, turn out say a poem a day, most of mine wouldn’t make sense, hance, pretty much be a bunch of drivel, absent of profundity. I come up with a couple of poem-worthy ideas most days--maybe that's a false impression--and I don't have time to put a pen to everything. How is it worth the effort if it isn’t clever or very good, stunning, hitting the listener between the eyes? I don't think anybody gets to be a millionaire writing poetry, no matter how good it is. You have to love the process, the readings, and the marketing of your work. I love my work; it gets rather polished and on-target, given the time for it to mature and bake up tall, brown, sweet, and tasty.